Where the keys stumble I remain
by Debbiemay1991
Summary: His everlasting love to her.
1. Proloque

Prologue

Do we change our faith, or do we just go with the flow. Do we drift apart when wrong decisions are made, maybe not maybe it's what's makes us stronger. What if we simply just didn't care if we changed our faith by hurting others, because one way or another you can't please yes and no at both times. It isn't grey. You have to choose is it the ever lighting white that sometimes is a fail to the truth because it blinds you. Or is it black that is a total darkness that lures us in. But with whatever you choose you are never sure if what we chose is the Wrong or the Right. In both ways you're never sure. And you're never to know what else could have happened, because it's faith.

The first letter that Beethoven wrote to his beloved. He wrote my angel, my all, my very self.

In the second letter that Beethoven wrote to his beloved stood, " Oh God - so near! so far! Is not our love truly a heavenly structure, and also as firm as the vault of heaven?''

In his third letter stood to his immortal beloved.

"Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

Ever thine  
Ever mine  
Ever ours

His everlasting love to her.

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Hope you liked the proloque and continue to read. please review so i know what you think about this story. Good bad i don't care but please review.


	2. Chapter 1 Look like time

1. Looks, like time

Once again I stood in front of the mirror, well what you could call a mirror. Black curly lines were drawn almost all over the surface and where there were just a few spaces left you could see a 16 maybe 17 year old girl standing. She was a ghostly, tall 5,8 feet thin girl with long brown curly hair what now most likely resembled a birds nest, because she just gotten out of her bed. Her face was unrecognizable, because of the swirly lines that danced across the mirror.

It's strange when you're looking at yourself in the mirror and you don't even seem to recognize you're the girl standing in front of the mirror. Was it because of the black lines on the mirror or was it the future that got ahead of her.

"Time dies when you're not having fun" I mumbled groggily to myself. I didn't change, I still look the same. It's what I always tell myself when I don't seem to recognize myself. I still have the freakishly green silver eyes with a scar running under my left eye and I do still have the same pale complexion.

I didn't need to deny myself that these past months I didn't take great care of myself. Not that it mattered, but I was thin to thin. I walked backwards every step carefully choreographed so that I swept carefully around the boxes that were scattered across the floor boards.

"Once bitten twice shy, I won't fall over you again.'' I exclaimed.

Finally I let myself fall contently on the bed. But it didn't last long. There where steps on the hallway only seconds away from my door.

"One, two, three and here we go." Fast rapid knocks came falling on the door much like the rain falling on the roof. Even before I got to answer my dad came bursting in.

"Oh, no you don't. You need to get up" my dad said passing around in my room looking for another box to take away.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I muttered sarcastically "you know you're supposed to wait for someone to answer, because maybe, just maybe I wasn't decent."

"Ah, but you are decent so now stand up and pack up your last boxes." He said.

"You're truly undeniable to say no too aren't you," I said "or could you at least give me a chance so I can try to prusway you by leaving me here in my bed, because truly heaven is place on earth."I said snuggling deeper in the tangle of my duvet. A rumbling laugh came from my dad's chest.

"Well if you put it in that way.'' He said walking across the rooming and launching himself on the bed. We lay there silent unmoving after a few minutes I rolled myself over to look at my dad who was watching me. My dad wasn't old only 34. He and my mom were both 17 when they got me. They were like day and night my grandmother had often told me. He wore all black and listened to those rock songs. "He was quite a loner" she would say "looked like a bird on too long stilts and never said a word and he smoked like a chain smoker never saw him without a cigarette." "Now your mother she was so different all colorful, bright, fast friend maker and enthusiastic and he just all smothered that with her." "And how they hated each other and still they were so perfect together." She would chuckle. "Definitely day and night" Gram's would mumble "definitely."

If my Grandmother could see him now only she would roll around laughing on the floor. She died when I was 9 and my dad was 26, she didn't got to see my dad's big change. His long black hair that would hang on his shoulders was now cut off in a quick hairdo he even began to grey, his black clothes now changed in the right season and fashion. No more black boots and it was goodbye to the black t-shirts that he wore thru the whole year.

He realized he needed to grow up when my mum, grandmother and I got in to a car accident. Only I came out alive well barely they brought me back 4 times. After that my careless dad wasn't so careless anymore he became more protective and serious. I miss the old dad we would watch horror movies till midnight. Mom would scream and we would laugh at her silliness. After the accident everything changed. Two very important family members were gone, Grams lived at our place to watch me while they went to college after mom and dad graduated she still stayed.

Then dad said something that interrupted my day thinking.

"Have you been smoking?" He smelled like cigarettes.

"Have you heard what I've been saying?" he said

"You're changing the subject!" I exclaimed.

"You first"

"That's a yes isn't"

"Maybe" he smiled goofily "You promised you would quit, you promised." He noticed I was getting upset and again he promised that he would quit like so many times as before. And then he walked out of the door with a smiling apology on his face, while he said I should get ready for school and that I needed to shut the boxes so that he could put them in the garage.

As every ordinary morning I sat at the bus stop. But right from the moment I walked out through the front door to the bus stop I got a uncomfortable feeling.

It grows. So undeniably fast that you can't even stop it. It's like pulling out weed, it stays away for awhile but it always grows back. Unless you have one of those weed exterminators. "Spray now tomorrow gone." And even that would be too late if it helps too sole the feeling I got. Oh how I wish it would just vanquish in thin air. Oh my, I wish it did. So I tried again.

"You don't want it." I mumbled. "Believe me you don't." I tried again.

It crept and crept all the way up. The horrible unending feeling that you get. The feeling that spells in capital letters even if there's no name for it. You know words to describe it but none of the words seem to fit. The unending, unforgiving, unfortunately, unforgotten, unaccepted and unmovable feeling. Maybe it does have a name the feeling, the capital letter feeling.

The "UN-feeling"

That could work. The feeling that you can't deny. And even if you tried the feeling is kept at bay **until **the waves come and bring it all back. Because it cost you every fiber of your whole existence to beg the difference. Maybe it isn't a feeling maybe it's a fibe. The fibe that says "don't do it something bad is going to happen if you do". You try to ignore it all day, but the feeling is eating you a life. So the right thing to do is listen to it. Isn't it? But then again I being me (stubborn) didn't listen to it, because I was to curious and hard headed to be even listening to it.

And so as every ordinary morning I sat at the bus stop. Staring straight ahead at the fog, waiting for something to happen. But like every morning the fog opened up like a passage way in the shape of a person. The person that walked or rather say skipped through the fog was a girl who I used to babysit a girl named Mira. A girl afraid of her own shadow if she walked across a corner and suddenly saw it there. A girl very superstitious. She wouldn't dare to step on a crack even when it wasn't Friday the 13th. The skipping she most of the time did was because there were cracks in the road. Suddenly she stopped still and looked up with a big smile on her face like a Cheshire cat. She looked right she looked left and jumped up and ran across the road right out of the danger zone.

"I made it!"she exclaimed like a 6 year old and in many ways she was. Lets say she wasn't the smartest twig in the family tree. She was twelve now and sat in the fifth grade she needed to do the year over.

"I see" I said "how many times in a row right now?" 3 weeks and 5 days I thought silently counting for myself.

"20 times" she yelled a little too loudly on the early morning.

A distant sound of rumbles came from our left and the old school bus came in sight. Not a minute later I was in the bus sitting in the back of the old smelly bus. Waiting for the bus to start. As the bus began to come forward again I saw something coming out of the fog. A thin slender gangly boy came running forward out of the thick white mass running behind the bus. I wanted to call out to the bus driver, but something stopped me from calling out. A chill came up my spine as I tried to look at the face of the boy but the weather caught up with him and encircled him in the mass of the haze. The only thing I saw was an out stretched hand. A haunted image etched in my mind as a surge of new inspiration for a drawing. But my mind sauntered back to think about the unrecognizable boy. Must be a new student, only Mira and I came from this block.

At school was no news of a new family moving in to town. Maybe I had just imagined it, because of the weird feeling I had. It could be messing with my head. I let the thought slide by hoping to be forgotten but the feeling kept itself at bay, it kept lurking in shallow waters me being unable to bury it deeper away.

For the rest of the day I tried to get by the day unnoticeably like always. I walked to class, paid attention, did the whole ritual a couple of times over till the lunch break. Where I would sit at a table with a few other people who I didn't know really good. After those few acquired moments it was time for art class. Where I would see my friend Ames again.

Finally in art class Ames was already setting up. She was a year my senior. And we only had this class together because she flunked it last year. How on earth did she do that was my first thought when I first met her this year. Well simply her mom was the teacher and Ames well she just loves art. And since you only have it the first three years of high school she just asked her mom to take her grades down. The only condition was that she needed to keep her grades up at math and biology and her mother wouldn't rat her out.

"Ever Eve, Ever Eve. Wherefore art thou my everlasting Eve" was the first thing she said. Another thing about her was she loves Shakespeare and she just loves my name and last name. She always uses them together in a sentence when she talks to me. By the record I hate my name. What were my young strange birdlike parents thinking?

"What's in a name? That which we call a thorn of a rose. By any other word would sting as painful?" I replied

"End scene 2" she said baffled. "That's a new one have to keep it in thought." Still feeling slightly stunned with my cleverness. "But I still like your name" regaining her stubborn demeanor.

The rest of art class was spent in silence with an occasional altercation. We weren't the talkative kind of friends we understood each other perfectly. With the occasional sleepover and weekly weekend call we passed every week of the year. We still had our own social lives. Well she had, I was more of a loner who she could goof around with. And when art class ended so did we end our strange friendship. She went on with her social live and I with mine well not so social one. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

After dissecting a sheep's eye and the occasional fainter in biology it was time for choice hour. In this hour you could follow practically every course you wanted to. The jocks went to the gym, the study bulbs staid clear of the jocks and went with a big bow around them for hoping to not being dragged into the gym to be the shooting target and if they weren't noticed they went to the library. The cheerleaders went to silent hour which wasn't very silent by then. The rest of the population were smaller groups so they went criss cross through each other lost in the crowd. And I went to attic to Mrs. Clavecin. Mrs. Clavecin wasn't actually a teacher nor did she appear as one. She looked more like a professor who went completely mad. She wore a long coat with missing stitchings and it had pockets all over the coat. It kind of reminded me of Mary Poppins bag. She could pick the strangest things out of her bag just like Mrs. Clavecin did with her coat. She was the accountant and because there wasn't much room in the school itself she was placed in the attic. But I don't think she minded. The attic was illuminated by candles which made it look more

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